Chapter 23
I was extremely happy with how everything had turned out. Not only did I now have a much better understanding of what was going on, I had eliminated much of the influence of a false-friend to my family. Petyr Baelish was no longer master of coin. He was being allowed to stick around for the next few weeks until a new master of coin could be appointed in order to ensure a smooth transition, but after that he was being told to get out of the city. He could retain his ownership of the brothels and other businesses he owned, but they would be managed by someone else.
That Robert wanted him away from me was pretty clear. It was good that he was taking his responsibilities seriously. I was under his protection, and Baelish’s repeated attempts to keep the touch barrier broken between us were starting to look suspiciously like some pathetic attempt at seduction. But more importantly was the issue that he had worked cross-purposes to my father, and sabotaged his time here.
Petyr Baelish had been Jon Arryn’s creature, that much was clear. But it seemed that his loyalty to the former Hand did not extend to his widow. This is where it got messy. Were his spies and agents loyal to the Arryn family, or to Littlefinger personally? It was likely whoever paid them, so my bet was Baelish.
My Aunt Lysa had left the city very abruptly after her husband’s death, and taken the entire household with her. Robert occasionally still muttered about the ‘widow’s madness’ particularly because he had agreed to have Robert Arryn fostered in Casterly Rock. Which was quite troubling, since Lysa and the queen had not gotten along at all. That was no secret, it was one of the first things I learned from the bribed maids.
When my father arrived in the city he began to work with Petyr Baelish, who led a trail of breadcrumbs to the supposed bastardy of Robert’s children. What still gave me pause was the high-risk nature of the ploy. The king did not like his wife. He was rather henpecked, given that he had rolled over with the Robert Arryn fostering, the making of two Lannisters his squires, the appointment of Jaime as the Warden of the East, and so on, but if he had heard that convenient excuse… well, it wasn’t likely he would believe it, but he was a man easily moved given the right emotional leverage.
Jon Arryn and Robert’s two brothers had clearly been working to remove Cersei for some time. Stannis and Jon seemed to have gone for the high-risk play of accusing the queen of giving him horns and birthing bastards, while Renly had opted for the safer path of just tempting him with Margaery. I wasn’t quite sure if they had all been working together or not, since Renly and Stannis did not get along, but that the Lannisters had overstayed their welcome of other nobles was clear.
Baelish’s goal seemed to be to remove Ned Stark from his role as Hand. But he had done so in a way that could have caused significant grief for the Lannisters. The more I examined his actions, the more I was growing convinced he was working for another party, not the Lannisters. With Royce championing his removal, Lysa, if she even knew about the former Hand’s intelligence network, was cut out. So who then was Baelish working for?
I had some ideas. Robert Arryn was the heir to the Eyrie and while he lived, Lysa was in command of the Vale. However, if something were to happen to him, the presumptive heir was Harrold Hardying who had the backing of the Waynwood family. If some tragic accident were to befall young Robert, Lysa would see herself without any power. It was possible that Littlefinger was still working for the Vale, just not for my Aunt Lysa.
Wait, could that be why he wants me in the Vale? The Tullys and my own family might make trouble if Lysa’s son dies and Lysa is thrust out of power. It would be suspicious despite the sickly reputation my cousin has. But if ‘Harry the Heir’ is wed to me, the thought may be that my father and Hoster Tully will not raise a stink.
The idea of the Lord of the Vale wedding a despoiled woman made that a bit unlikely, but I could see the pieces fitting anyway. Especially with me being thought of fondly by the king. It would also explain Baelish pushing the Lannisters to let me leave King’s Landing. Harrold himself may have consented to it as repayment for becoming a Paramount Lord. If it had worked, then Baelish would have nearly everyone happy with him. There were still some holes, but it was a good working theory.
The second thought I had was that he was working for a Targaryen loyalist faction. Most people thought the prior rulers a broken faction, with no chance of returning to power. I mostly agreed, but Robert seemed to think otherwise, and he would be kept far more abreast of those sorts of intrigues thanks to the master of whisperers. Could the Targaryens be planning a counter-coup? For the sake of argument, I assumed that to be true, what might an agent like Littlefinger do to arrange that?
Divide and conquer. Create strife. Bankrupt the treasury.
I had originally thought the Lannisters were behind the plot to discredit my father, and they may have played a role, but again I kept running into the risky nature of that plan. Who benefited most from the Starks and Lannisters fighting? Or the Lannisters and the Tyrells? Why, none other than the exiled Targaryens who were now attempting to bring the Dothraki to their cause. Everything I had read about the Dothraki suggested they wouldn’t cross the Narrow Sea, but perhaps something had changed. Or, it could be possible that the Targaryens were just incorrect, but that they were pushing forward with their agent in King’s Landing based on a faulty assumption.
Father had even used Baelish suggesting a lordship as his way of preventing Daenerys Targaryen’s death. The man obviously wasn’t a paragon of morality, so why would he care about the death of the Targaryen? To impress my father? Perhaps, but that seemed off. Baelish would probably have not predicted that Ned Stark, the son and brother of two Starks who had been brutally murdered by the Targaryens would be so steadfastly opposed to the killing. It was a point in favor of Baelish working for a Targaryen restoration faction.
This was all plausible, but why would Baelish, who had ties to the Tullys and the Arryns from his youth, be a loyalist for the Targaryen family? Sure, wealth and power were always nice to have, but there seemed little surety that the Targaryens would prevail, and it wasn’t as if Baelish had been around the royal family in his youth. The pieces fit in one way, but in another it seemed a stretch.
My third idea was that he was Stannis Baratheon’s agent. On the surface, it looked ridiculous, but there was some evidence for it. Stannis and Jon had been closely aligned. They were both working together to remove Cersei. Stannis left in a tiff at not being made Hand of the King, but perhaps he still had harbored a desire for the role and sought to remove my father as Hand. At the same time, if it blew up in the Lannisters’ face, so much the better for him. It was a reverse Morton’s Fork; all outcomes led to his perceived benefit. Either Robert believed his Hand’s accusation and did away with the Lannisters, or my father was dismissed and gave Stannis another shot at becoming Hand.
I considered that the least likely, because it didn’t fit the reputation Stannis had. The problem was that the reputation he had and Robert’s own view of his brother also didn’t quite fit either. But Robert was unreliable in some ways, so it made things altogether very frustrating to find what was really true. The rumors around Stannis were almost all negative, from highborn and smallfolk alike, but consistently it was agreed that he despised Baelish.
With Baelish’s dismissal, it would be interesting to see who would manage the Arryn spy network in King’s Landing. After I left and then began spying on the small council discussion, I learned that Stannis was to be recalled to King’s Landing or be removed from his post. Renly would keep his and would Varys. The eunuch had soothed Robert’s wrath and promised to share more information with him regularly, and had confessed that he earnestly felt Robert had not wished to be involved in the small matters of the council.
I suspect, and would seek to get confirmation later, that Robert didn’t want to completely shake up his small council just yet. With potentially two further changeovers after two recent changes of Hand, it was beginning to feel a bit like the final days of the Mad King’s small council. A comparison that would infuriate him if anyone spoke it aloud.
I had a busier schedule than I would like. Margaery’s fifteenth name day celebration was tomorrow. After that Tommen would look for his regular pre-bedtime story, I had a needlework session with Princess Myrcella, and then Arya was chomping at the bit to show me her new knife skills. Oh, and I had to keep my family in Winterfell informed of the latest situation within King’s Landing, as well as see if Jon or Robb might be ready to experiment with a secondary animal.
It doesn’t matter what life I’m in. There really are never enough hours in the day.
***
Catelyn relaxed in her husband’s embrace. Both spent after their lovemaking. It was not just that they had been trying for another child, but the time apart had also caused their ardor to wax. With the threat of three of their children eventually being in the south, and Bran crippled and most like unable to produce any children of his own, the need for more Starks at Winterfell had grown.
The news from the south by letter and then by Sansa had been both gratifying and troubling. Sansa had expressed earlier confidence in being able to influence the king, and she had been successful. Their eldest daughter had always been stubborn, but her Ned had clashed with Robert fiercely and the idea that Robert would so quickly rescind, even if only for Rickon, his earlier pronouncement was almost unbelievable. Kings rarely reversed themselves so swiftly. Such a thing wounded royal dignity.
Then but a few days later Sansa shared more news from King’s Landing. Petyr Baelish was no longer master of coin. She shared how she let slip that Bran had nearly been murdered, and then observed the reactions. The king had not been informed by the Spider, nor by Baelish, and this had enraged him. Catelyn was horrified by what Sansa had done, but the stubborn girl had said it was necessary. She had gone on to share how Baelish had been working directly with the Lannisters to arrange for her to be sent to the Vale, and that the man had been chief among Robert’s advisors in pushing for Sansa and Arya to be made hostages.
Catelyn felt betrayed. She had trusted Petyr. Even now, it was still fully unclear what her childhood friend had planned. What were his plots in the Vale? Even Ned with all his time in his youth in that region, could not decipher what may be going on. Catelyn had sent a letter to Lysa asking what Baelish may have been trying to do, as well as to warn her that he was aware of the secret message she had sent. No reply had come as of yet. A second raven was dispatched, still vaguely worded in case the message were to somehow be intercepted.
For the second time, in less than a year, urgent news interrupted them. Maester Luwin clutched a message in a frightful grip.
“Dark wings, dark words. I bear ill news from the Wall.”
Ned closed his eyes. Catelyn hated seeing her husband in pain. The maester’s tone could only concern the fate of Benjen.
Luwin handed her husband the message. He pulled the lantern closer and then his eyes widened in pure surprise.
“I cannot believe anyone would make a jape of this, but it cannot be real.”
“Maester Aemon has signed this, though someone else wrote it. Blind he may be, he would never take part in any sort of mummer’s farce.”
“What is it?” Catelyn asked.
Ned shook his head. “Dark tidings, yes, but if Sansa had not shown what she can do, I’d have trouble believing this was real. The stories Old Nan shares with our children are real. Lord Commander Mormont is dead, slain by the corpse of one of the rangers who went on the ranging with Benjen. Five men of the Night’s Watch in total were slain. The letter says they had to hack the pieces of the ‘wights’ they call them to shreds before they would stop trying to kill.”
For ten years the Old Bear had served as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. It was shocking, as was this talk of the dead rising. Catelyn looked at the letter and multiple other people swore by the old gods that it was true, including Jon Umber, the lord of Last Hearth.
It is gratifying to know our vassals moved so swiftly when my husband asked for them to come to his brother’s aid. Leave it to the Greatjon to go personally.
The mountain of a man was never a quiet guest, or anywhere close to the courtliest, but there were few who could claim more loyalty. Her mind clung to that thought so as not to think about the horror of murder done by the dead. She could only pray and wonder what could be done against such vile sorcery.
***
Her grandmother had secured the tourney grounds for her name day celebration. The king would not be in attendance. She understood why, but it still would have been a notable honor. Everyone else that mattered in King’s Landing was attending, including the new Hand of the King, the Starks, Renly, Dondarrion, the Stokeworths, and other nobles from the crownlands. She did take some small joy in that Sansa had been able to bring Myrcella with her. The princess was being escorted by Ser Preston of the Kingsguard.
But when she had said as much to her grandmother she had been chided.
“Ser Preston is the snake in the grass. Pay attention, there’s no need to give you more honors with a royal presence, but Ser Preston is the queen’s creature. Discuss these things with me beforehand.”
Margaery had wanted to argue. Who cared if Ser Preston overheard anything? No one was going to be speaking anything remotely treasonous at the gathering openly. Not with the number of servants and notables present. The queen would learn of whatever transpired during her celebration regardless. But it was often better just to nod and accept the ‘wisdom’ of grandmother than risk an argument.
She loved her grandmother, she truly did, but she treated her like she was a child. It had long grown tiresome. The food and all the drink were carefully prepared under the watchful eye of Ser Loras and his chosen men. Tasters were employed as an additional precaution, and the safety and security of Margaery and all her guests was taken most seriously.
“Sansa, Myrcella, thank you so much for coming. Won’t you both join me in singing? Oh, actually, Sansa, would you mind playing the harp? I’d heard you were particularly talented on it.”
“I would be glad to,” Sansa replied. Myrcella just nodded her head. Highborn ladies were encouraged to learn musical talents. Having them join her would show the gathered guests just how close she was with the other noble ladies in King’s Landing.
The gifts were all well and good, but coming from a rich family, they did not mean much to her. Anything she had ever truly wanted, her father provided. Being the second richest family in Westeros had always been a delight.
“Sansa, tell me more about your uncle. Edmure is someone my father will try to wed me to, and I want to know everything.”
“I know mostly only what my mother says of him. But I will share all that I know. Edmure is sweet, kind, and enjoys laughter. Well, at least according to my mother. She was his elder and sees him through an older sister’s eyes, I’m sure. He’s handsome and has no great shames or blights on his character. I believe he would be eager for such a match, as tales of your beauty are commonplace, and objectively justified.”
Margaery gently laughed. Sansa always phrased things just a bit oddly to her ear. North-raised girls really did speak differently.
“That is wonderful to hear, Sansa. Might I trouble you to write to your uncle, suggesting that he would be well-pleased? I unfortunately must find a match sooner than late, or I’ll be forced to leave the city.”
Sansa gave her a look and lowered her voice. “Can you blame the queen for making such a demand? It is safer for you as well, but I digress. I will make it clear that you also are an avid rider.”
Edmure is a knight, so of course he can ride well. Is he the sort of man, like Robert, who wishes his wife to attend him on rides in the countryside and hunts? I’d not mind that.
What was odd was that Sansa was almost always very poised, but here she looked mildly embarrassed. Margaery didn’t want to let silence linger too long, so shifted and brought Myrcella into the conversation.
“Princess, I’d heard that the king wants to take you hunting next, are you excited?”
Myrcella shook her head. “I’m not sure, my mother wishes for me to beg Father not to go, but… it might be fun. I almost never get to see anything outside of the Red Keep.”
“It is a grand affair! Just like out of a song. I saw His Grace spear that boar like the Warrior himself. It is quite magical; you simply must attend.”
The princess gave her an uncertain smile.
Arya made an un-ladylike sound. “Spearing the boar might be fun, but that took weeks. And normal hunts involving stags are even less interesting. Killing a helpless animal that others had run down seems like something any fool could do.”
Sansa frowned slightly.
“Arya, what advantage does speaking ill of the hunt in that matter grant you? You could just as easily have left that last part out.”
Arya’s eyes went to the heavens, and Margaery saw an opportunity.
“Lady Arya, what do you think a lord does all day?”
She frowned. “Feast? Maybe train in the yard. Hold court and mete out justice.”
“Aye, they do that,” Margaery said with a smile, “but what they do most, is command. They are in charge of a keep, a castle, and lands. They have an army of retainers and servants. The hunt is an example of the skill of the most important aspect a lord displays, their ability to rule. A well-run hunt has dozens of servants acting in concert. It is proof that a noble can manage his house well and select leal and capable servants.”
Sansa looked faintly surprised, but was nodding in agreement. Arya gave a shrug.
“I ‘spose that makes sense, but it’s still boring.”
Margaery didn’t laugh out loud, but it was plain that Sansa had her work cut out for her. It probably would have been best to keep their septa around, but Sansa had her reasons. Everything was truly magical about the event, though it did not top the blooming gardens of Highgarden when she had turned four-and-ten a year prior, but it was close.
The festive dance saw her have multiple partners, including her brother Loras, and Lord Renly.
“The rumor that you are urgently seeking a wife has made the rounds, Lady Stokeworth even asked me just a moment ago to introduce you to her daughter.”
Renly made a sour face and then whispered. “I may not care for women in bed, my lady, but I do have standards.”
Whether that was meant to be an insult at Lollys being a halfwit or simply a jab at her appearance, Margaery could not say for certain.
Knowing him, most like her weight. Renly had always preferred beauty in those who surrounded him. Never mind that her house is far too minor for the Lord of the Stormlands.
“Who are you looking to wed?”
Renly looked miserable for a moment. “I know not. I’ve sent letters to a variety of houses. The Martells hate my house, but Doran may look less hostile to the idea given my age during Robert’s Rebellion. There’s a Frey girl who is pretty enough, but many of my lords would frown as marrying into such a new house. They could only trace their lineage back six centuries, after all. And yet, I’m eager to be done with this mummer’s farce and her father has offered a generous dowry.”
“And the house is known to be quite fertile, so with any luck your marital duties won’t be overly onerous before a child is planted,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“True enough.” He twirled her around and then it was on to the next partner.
After the dancing, feasting, singing, and mummer plays, Margaery found time to sit with Sansa again.
“Sansa, I’ve so enjoyed this gathering. Thank you so much for coming and bringing the princess.”
Sansa nodded. “I’m always happy to help. The gathering was quite well put together and I appreciate the invitation.”
Margaery leaned in a bit. “With the master of coin position now vacant, I had a thought. I miss my father and brothers terribly. Do you think either my father or perhaps my brother Willas Tyrell might be well-suited for the role?”
“I don’t know them, so I would imagine you have a better idea.”
Margaery smiled. “They both would be wonderful. Father understands the importance of commerce. I think you’ve made mention of that a time or two as well, you’d like that. I believe you’d also like my eldest brother; he isn’t all that much like Loras, but he was happy to write to your brother Bran. If given cause to stay in King’s Landing I could see the friendship between our families blooming even further.”
Sansa eyed her carefully. Margaery knew that Sansa knew what she was asking, but she still played mummer’s part.
“They should write to the king about their interest then.”
“Sansa,” she said with a shift in tone to be almost plaintive in nature, “you know what I ask. Put in a word to the king, talk of how perhaps Willas and your brother have corresponded and how appreciative you are. How you’ve heard how good of a head he has for numbers. His Grace values your opinion.”
“Perhaps he values it because I do not attempt to sway him on every matter, much like the queen and his other advisors do.”
Margaery smiled. “Please, Sansa. It would bring me much merriment. I, along with my family, would be most grateful.”
The Stark girl stayed silent as she considered.
“The king occasionally makes comments on various matters, and I might be able to subtly push forward the idea. I do not want to be as crass as to make a suggestion on who should sit the small council, but perhaps I could make a comment or two about how wealthy houses would be best suited, as they are proven capable stewards. That would then either be a Lannister or a Tyrell. That is the best I can do.”
Margaery gave her a warm hug.
“Thank you, Sansa, truly, though I have only known you a short while, yet you are already closest in my heart of all my companions.”
It wasn’t true, but Sansa was the most useful for the moment.
***
Being X was fucking with me again. That was the only plausible explanation. Having ensconced myself in a position of subtle influence with the king, I felt reasonably secure. I should have known better. He wouldn’t let me have a peaceful life without conflict.
But raising the dead and then using them to assassinate the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch? Has that charlatan never heard of subtlety?
Argh, it was all so very frustrating. At least my parents had finally come to the understanding that Lord Baelish did not have my best interests at heart. Given that being able to warg was a magical ability, it stood to reason other magical abilities could also exist. Necromancy apparently could be one of them. The tales of the Battle for the Dawn were from thousands of years ago, but they had mentioned wights, pale dead horses, and ‘hosts of the slain.’
Old Nan liked her stories. They were almost certainly embellishments, there always were. But I thought back and did my best to remember how the tale had gone.
‘In that darkness, the Others came for the first time … They were cold things, dead things, that hated iron and fire and the touch of the sun, and every creature with hot blood in its veins. They swept over holdfasts and cities and kingdoms, felled heroes and armies by the score, riding pale dead horses, and leading hosts of the slain. All the swords of men could not stay their advance, and even maidens and suckling babes, found no pity in them. They hunted the maids through the frozen forests, and fed their dead servants on the flesh of human children.’
Unfortunately, the tales were vague as to how to best defeat the hosts of the dead. Stories told tales of an alliance between humanity and the Children of the Forest, but where were the details? What tactics had been useful? What were the limitations of the dead? How did their senses work? All this was unclear.
Another issue was what would be believed? If I had not rediscovered skinchanging, I would have had a very hard time believing the tales from the Night’s Watch. I would believe it was some clever trick, perhaps some sort of fumes that made people hallucinate used by the wildlings. Or some mummery involving people dressed up, or even the Night’s Watch trying a new tactic to obtain coin and supplies.
But there’s an explanation for everything. Umber was there. The Lord Commander slain. No wildling bodies, just those of the Night’s Watch. The story is plausible on the surface, I know magic exists, I need to assume that this is legitimate.
But with it being legitimate what could I do? It was time to cash in some favors. We would need more people to believe the potential threat was real. Hopefully, the threat was merely localized. Perhaps some wildling had rediscovered necromancy, much the way I had rediscovered skinchanging. There were probably limits, just like there were limits on how many animals I could comfortably bond. That wasn’t a certainty, perhaps the limit was something such as time, or perhaps this necromancy was something that others could learn and we would have hundreds of individual necromancers and tens of thousands of walking dead. I just didn’t know, so had to prepare for the worst.
Father had already sent a letter to King’s Landing, as had the Night’s Watch. How it would be received… well, that was going to be difficult to predict. I would try to steer Robert, but a light hand was needed, or I would cease to have influence.
Regardless of what the king did, I would look to get other people to independently confirm. I would be speaking with Margaery to try to get the Tyrells to send at least one ship with trusted retainers they would not doubt, that could obtain a first hand account, or perhaps even physical proof that the dead walked. I would do the same with Lord Renly, who should still owe me given that I had helped Margaery learn poetry.
I also wanted first hand information, which had me send Eyes away from King’s Landing and to the Wall. My talent for partial slipping was proving useful in that regard, as I could take a brief moment to peer through his eyes and gauge his progress without losing full awareness of my human body. When he arrived beyond the Wall he could scan far and wide and see if there were any looming armies of the undead.
My father was still debating about going personally, or not. At Winterfell he could respond faster to messages that may be flitting back and forth between him, his vassals, and King’s Landing. However, he was also a man who believed the story that had been shared, but also needed to see to fully understand. I was unsure what the best course was, and suggested we await the king’s first response. Ideally, Rob or Jon would be able to bond a second animal and we could have proper swift communication between the Wall and Winterfell, the Wall and me, and Winterfell and me.
I didn’t want to rush the attempt, but it was time that Robb and Jon tried to bond a second animal. It was just too useful not to. Additionally, once they were able to do that, it was time to bring Bran into the fold. I didn’t like an extra potential leak, but the benefits of skinchanging were far too useful to ignore. Scouting and communication would be absolutely critical if there was a serious push by necromantic wildlings. The unfortunate reality was that the Wall had never been in a weaker position. Father had said that less than a thousand men guarded it. Because of course it would be weakest during the time I was alive. What a coincidence.
Damn you Being X. This won’t break me either.